


I Don't Have A Choice But I'd Still Choose You

by always_obsessed_with_something



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_obsessed_with_something/pseuds/always_obsessed_with_something
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because they don't know what it is doesn't mean that they can't feel it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Have A Choice But I'd Still Choose You

**Author's Note:**

> First post on AO3. I write fanfic all the time, but I've never posted any of it before.
> 
> Title taken from "Poison & Wine" by The Civil Wars.

    There is a green-eyed man with no place to call home. He is headstrong and he is brash, but on the inside, he is as broken as the bottles of Jack Daniels that lie scattered on the floor of this motel room. He has nothing to his name but the car that carries him someplace new and unfamiliar far too often, and he has no family but a brother who wants nothing more than to help. But the green-eyed man does not want sympathy, so he stays numb and apathetic until self-loathing is all he knows. And he allows himself to believe that his only purpose is to keep his brother from harm, and in doing so, he loses himself.                                               

    And then comes the blue-eyed angel, and he is strong but he is naive, and he takes the shards of his green-eyed soldier and begins to piece them back together. And every second that he spends with the man, he finds himself caring more and more for him, and every day he falls further and further from grace. The blue-eyed angel rebels for his green-eyed warrior, and he turns, blood against blood, to keep him safe.

    The green-eyed man is more afraid now that he has ever been; the demons from his past have nothing on this. He does not care for anyone, he does not feel, because he does not deserve to. But something inside of him burns like holy fire, and when he is with his blue-eyed savior, he blazes like the sun. He watches as his saving grace throws away his faith, and he wonders why he was ever deemed worthy of salvation.

    The savior, however, knows to his very core that this man is worth it all. But he has regrets, and he begins to know true human emotion in a way he was never before able to comprehend. He was not to attach; he was not to linger. But for this man, he defies everything he once knew. To fix this man, he breaks himself, and he does not know why he does it. Perhaps it is because he has developed a strange fondness for him. He does not understand attraction; he does not understand the concept of romance. But he sees a miracle in the green-eyed man that he cannot explain. When he is able to make the man laugh, deep and gravelly and rumbling and _real_ , his eyes sparkling like the sun on the ocean, he feels a foreign flutter deep in his gut, and he wonders if that is what is known as affection, or if it is something more.

    When the man looks into the eyes of the one who saved him, he can sense something rooted deep within him that leaves him breathless and at a loss for words. But he does not try to understand it, because the sparks in his chest are alien and frightening. He knows leaving women after one night; he knows alcohol; he knows detachment. This feeling is something unexplored, something dangerous. He is wise beyond his years; the skin around his eyes is already beginning to crinkle, even at his still young age, and yet  _this_... _this_ is daunting and confusing, and in  _this_ , he is inexperienced. And when he looks at his dark-haired angel, he is that young boy again, before his innocence was stripped away the first time his father placed a gun in his small hands; he is callow and inept and he doesn't  _want_ to feel this way, because his life has taught him that feelings lead to nothing but pain.

    His savior has fallen before he is aware. He knows that he likes to sit next to the green-eyed man on the motel bed at watch him watch television, because it is then that the green-eyed man does not hide; he laughs or frowns or bites his lip in confusion with hesitation. The angel also knows that he likes to watch the man drive, because his hands treat his car with the utmost care, and he finds himself memorizing every callous and scar and wondering how those hands would fit in his own. and the angel thinks that if he had to decide, his favorite number would be one hundred thirty seven, because it is exactly the number of fair freckles, barely visible to the human eye, that are scattered across the man's face. On occasion, the green-eyed man's brother whill enter the motel room while the angel is watching the man watch television, or he wil wake from his slumber in the backseat of the car to find the angel peering curiously at the man driving, and he will always laugh to himself and shake his head. And sometimes the brother will shove the green-eyed man playfully and laugh again, or he will simply clap the blue-eyed angel on the back and smile knowingly. The angel does not know what any of this means, but he observes it nonetheless.

    And the green-eyed man knows that he is afraid to look into the dark blue eyes of his savior, because it makes him feel as though he is plunging into the unknown. Sometimes he notices when he is being watched by the angel, and a harsh voice in his mind will yell, _Call him ou_ _t,_ but somewhere hidden in the back, a more powerful voice whispers,  _But I don't want to_. The green-eyed man doesn't understand why, but he finds it almost... _endearing_ how the blue-eyed angel's dark hair naturally sticks up in every which way. And the angel can make him laugh, his constant state of confusion and how he takes everything that is said to him in absolute earnest, sarcasm and modern day references utterly lost on him. The green-eyed man does  _not_ like the way his brother smirks to himself and chuckles and rolls his eyes as though he is the only one in the know, as though he is watching on of those movies where the audience is simply waiting for the protagonists to admit their true feelings and ride off together into the sunset.

    He is in the car again, rain pouring down as he speeds down an empty road. His brother is sitting next to him, staring out the window in silence, his long fingers tapping on the knee of his jeans to music only he can hear. The green-eyed man looks in the rear-view mirror at his angel, asleep on the cracked leather seat in the back. He is about to tear his eyes away, back to the road that stretches on endlessly before him, when he sees one blue eye open sleepily, and he watches as the face in the mirror gives him a rare, full-blown smile, white teeth and chapped lips against dark stubble. And it is then that the green-eyed man knows what it is that he has been fighting.

    It is love.

 


End file.
